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Of miself is me nought,
Bot Horn his sone ichave the brought,

Help now in this nede."

Houlac king was wel hende,
Ressaived hem nighen Herlaund the tende,

Her maister for to be:
“ Mete and drink y schal hem fende,
And ever when ich out wende

Thai schal wende with me.
Horn schal be me leve and dere."
He bad Harlaund schuld him lere,

The right for to se,
The lawes bothe eld and newe,
All maner gamen and glewe,

In bok thus rede we.

Thus in boke as we rede
Alle thai were in court to fede

Sweteliche at lare,
Alle were thai clothed in o wede,
To ride on palfray, other on stede,

Whether hem lever ware.
Horn was bothe war and wise,
At hunting oft he wan the priis,

Loved he nothing mare;
Harpe and romaunce he radde aright,
Of al gle he hadde in sight

That in lond ware.

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Ther was no knight in Inglond
That might a dint stond of his hond,

Noither fer no nere.
Michel he was, and wele ymaked;
As white as milke he was naked,

And ever o blithe chere;
Meke he was, and trewe so stiel,
Alle games he couthe wel,

As ye may forward here.

Houlac king, y wene,
Hadde no child bi the quene,

Bot a maid bright,
Al thai seyd that hir sene
Sche was a feir may, and a schene,

And maiden Rimneld she hight,
When sche herd Horn fpeke
Might sche him nought foryete,

Bi day no bi night,
Loved never childer mare
Bot Tristrem or Yfoud it ware,

Who so rede aright..

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Forthi he lete Horn at hame,
And toke Hatherof in his name,

To maiden Rimneld [in].

The miri maiden, al so sone
As Hatherof into chamber come,

Sche wend that it wer Horn,
A riche cheier was undon
That feiven might fit theron,

In swiche craft ycorn;
A baudekin theron was spred,
Thider the maiden hadde hem led,

To siten hir biforn,
Frout and spices sche hem bede,
Wine to drink, wite and rede,

Bothe of coppe and horn.

Than a serjaunt fche bad ga,
A gentil goshauk for to ta,

Fair he was to flight,
Therwith herten* gloves to,
Swiche was the maner tho,

And yaf Hatherof of his yift. Sche wende bi Hatherof Horn it wore That loved hunting nothing more,

On him hir love was light, A les of grehoundes forth thai brought And he forsoke, and wald it nought,

And seyd Hatherof he hight.

“ What ever thi name it be,
Thou schalt have this houndes thre,
That wele can take a dere;

* Buckskin.

And, Hatherof, for the love of me, Com to-morn, and Horn with the :"

He lay her hert ful nere : And Harlaund, that was hende, Toke his leve for to wende,

With a blithe chere, And com anon on the morn, And brought with him hende Horn,

As ye may forward here.

· The maiden bour was fair spred, Atired al with riche wedde,

Sche haylett them with winne; The mirie maiden hir bithought In what maner that sche mought

Trewe love for to ginne. Sche sett hir hem bituene, The maiden was bright and schene,

And comen of kinges kinne ; Anon hir selve hadde hem lede To sitten opon her owhen bedde,

Arlaund, and Horn with him.

Hendeliche sche to him spac,
A poumgarnet ther sche brak,

And spices dede sche calle ;
Wine to drink, after that
Sche lete fet forth a stede blac,

Was covered al with palle.
The stiropes were of silke wite,
Bridel and sadel al was Nike,

And seyd, Horn, hende in halle,

It was me told thou schult be knight,
Y the yif here a stede light,

And a queyntise of palle.

Horn, sche seyd, is thi name,
An horn i schal yive the ane,

A michel and unride,
Al yvore is the bon,
Sett with mani a riche ston,

To bere bi thi side.
The baudrike was of filk right,
The maiden self it hadde ydight,

Layd with gold for pride:
“ What that ever be with me,
Horn, at thi wille schal it be,

In herd is nought te hide."

Than sche lete forth bring
A swerd hongand bi a ring,

To Horn sche it bitaught:
" It is the make of Miming, *
Of all swerdes it is king,

And Weland it wrought.
Bitterfer the swerd hight,
Better fwerd bar never knight,

Horn, to the ich it thought; Is nought a knight in Inglond Schal sitten a dint of thine hond, • Forsake thou it nought. * Meming was a fatyr, or silvan deity, in the forefts of Lapland, who possess'd a sword and bracelet of inestimable value, which Hoder, brother of Adils king of Sweden, in vain endeavour'd to wreft from him. See Saco, V.3, P.40, where he is callid Mimring. It is, at the same time, Mimming in Olaus Magnus, L. 3, C. 12.

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